


One on One

by Dawn (sunrize83)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 20:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrize83/pseuds/Dawn
Summary: Scully learns the origins of Mulder's love of basketball.





	One on One

Georgetown  
11:53 p.m. 

"Put those feet on my coffee table and you're a dead man, Mulder." 

Mulder froze like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights of an  
oncoming car, his Nikes a scant half inch from the glass surface.  
Lowering both feet to the floor, he glanced guiltily around the  
room, but despite the uncanny timing of her warning, his partner was  
nowhere in sight. He released a gusty sigh, wincing at the persistent  
heavy metal band holding a concert in his skull. Shifting a little, he  
began to toe off one shoe as Madame Scully, clairvoyant extraordinaire,  
struck again. 

"And take off those disgusting shoes before you lay down on the couch." 

"Your concern is touching," Mulder growled at the disembodied voice,  
grimacing again. "I knew I should've gone back to *my* place," he  
muttered under his breath. 

Scully materialized in the doorway to the kitchen, a mug in one hand and  
a line of exasperation creasing her pale brow. "You heard the doctor,  
Mulder. He let you go home tonight with the stipulation that *I*  
keep an eye on you." She then provided evidence of bionic hearing as  
well as clairvoyance by adding, "And if I have to play babysitter, I  
should at least be able to do so in the comfort of my own apartment." 

Mulder saw the potential for at least two suggestive remarks lurking in  
that statement, but he felt too miserable to excavate them. Instead he  
flopped down on the cushions and firmly informed his stomach that  
he was no longer accepting refunds. He didn't realize that his eyes had  
slid shut, or that he'd begun to drift until Scully's sharp reprimand  
shocked him out of the light doze. 

"MULDER! Wake up!" 

Unfortunately, he reflexively bolted upright at the alarm in her tone,  
provoking a white-hot shaft of pain that threatened to split his head in  
two. The moan that escaped his lips was just as instinctual, an  
unavoidable reaction, but Scully flinched and her glare of irritation  
turned quickly to remorse. 

"Sorry," she murmured. "You're supposed to stay awake for another hour  
or so -- remember?" 

Mulder dry washed his face with his hands, scooting backward to prop  
himself in the corner between the arm and back of the couch. "I know, I  
know. I didn't mean to." 

Scully's small, cool hand slipped into his, tugging it away from his  
face, and a moment later he felt the warm curve of a ceramic mug pressed  
into his palm. 

"Thought some chamomile tea might settle your stomach," she explained  
when he cocked an eyebrow. 

"Thanks." 

Scully watched him slowly sip the hot liquid, taking in the pain lines  
around his eyes and the wariness in each movement. Half of her wanted to  
pamper and take care of him, the other half to slap him for  
getting injured in such a frivolous way. 

"Explain it to me again -- *how* did you manage to sustain a concussion  
while playing basketball?" she asked. 

Mulder shrugged, unrepentant. "It was just an accident, Scully --  
could've happened to anyone. I went in for a lay-up and the guy that  
was guarding me got a little rough." 

"A *little* rough? Mulder, you have a bump the size of an egg on the  
back of your head!" 

Mulder tried to roll his eyes, but only succeeded in turning an  
interesting shade of green. "His team was losing and he got a little  
crazy! He didn't mean to shove me so hard, and if my feet hadn't gotten  
tangled with his I'd never have wound up on my back like that. He did  
apologize, after all." 

Males. She'd grown up with two brothers and at times she still didn't  
understand them. Mulder viewed her pursed lips with a blank look of  
incomprehension, obviously baffled by her animosity toward his  
basketball buddy. 

They drank their tea in silence until Scully observed Mulder's eyelids  
beginning to droop. She was scouring her brain for some topic to spark  
his interest -- UFO sightings, wolf babies, or other tabloid fodder --  
when he opened his eyes wide and attempted to scramble to his  
feet. 

"My basketball! Scully, I left my ball at the court, I've got to go and  
get it!" 

Somehow he did manage to haul himself upright, but turned a  
frightening shade of white and swayed precariously. Scully forced him back  
down with a well-placed push to his chest and held him there with  
reassuring words. 

"Mulder, stop! I have it! Do you hear me? *I've* got your ball," she  
repeated as he tried to stand again. 

Her words sank in and he slumped back against the pillows, panting and  
grimacing as the adrenaline wore off and his body registered the pain.  
Scully bent over to brush the hair from his eyes, her hand  
lingering on his cheek for a moment as she scrutinized the pupils.  
Satisfied, she sat down beside him. 

"I saw the ball when your friends were helping you over to my car," she  
explained. "I recognized that it was yours so I put it into my  
trunk. It's still there." 

Mulder nodded, but avoided her eyes. "Thanks, Scully." 

She studied his profile, noted the rigid set to his shoulders and the  
way his hands restlessly twisted a corner of the ragged Knicks tee  
shirt. "It's just a basketball, Mulder. And just a game. Isn't it?" 

He blinked and slowly turned to look at her, his face very still. "Maybe  
*now*, Scully." 

Scully indicated her confusion with a small shake of her head and an  
eyebrow that crept up until it hid beneath a sweep of auburn hair. "Tell  
me. I'd like to understand." 

Mulder's gaze softened and he slipped an arm around her shoulders,  
tucking her more securely into his side. The unexpected action caused  
her to stiffen at first, but then she relaxed and rested her head  
against his shoulder. Whatever he was about to tell her, he  
obviously wanted to avoid eye contact. 

"I think I told you that Samantha's abduction destroyed our  
family. That wasn't an exaggeration. Believe it or  
not, before that night we were frighteningly normal. My mother was warm  
and very affectionate -- willing to help Sam and I in whatever crazy  
schemes we cooked up, and right there to pick up the pieces when they  
went awry. When Sam disappeared, she went crazy with worry  
and grief. By the time I got out of the hospital, she'd shut herself off  
from the world -- Dad and I included. For a long time she just...existed  
in a Valium-induced haze, but the remoteness didn't go away with the  
drugs. Maybe losing Sam killed something inside of her, or maybe she just  
decided that she couldn't risk another heartbreak. Whatever the reason,  
I lost my mother in that blaze of light as well as my sister." 

Mulder paused and she laced her fingers with his, giving them an  
encouraging squeeze. 

"My dad was never one to physically express his affection, but when he  
wasn't working he'd spend a lot of time with Sam and I -- swimming,  
hiking on the beach, playing baseball. Even though he didn't hug us all  
the time the way Mom did, and didn't say the words, I saw how much  
he enjoyed being with us, and I never doubted that he loved us." 

"If grief transformed my mother after Sam was taken, then anger did the  
same to my father. Suddenly the man who rushed home to shed his work  
clothes and take me swimming couldn't even bear to be in the same room  
with me, let alone look at me. In retrospect, knowing what I do now, I  
recognize that the anger camouflaged his own guilt. But at the  
time, when I looked into his eyes I saw only accusation and blame." 

"I can't imagine what that must have been like for you," Scully  
murmured. 

"I drifted for a long time -- well over a year, I guess. I kept pretty  
much to myself and my friends didn't try to breach the gap. Most of them  
just didn't know what to say or how to act, but a few believed the  
rumors that I was responsible for Sam's disappearance." 

"People fear what they can't explain. Your neighbors  
must have been stunned by what happened." 

"A safe bet. Anyway, Mom, Dad, and I became like  
three strangers occupying the same house. They barely spoke to each  
other, or me, unless they were having one of the knock down, drag out  
fights that grew more and more frequent. The worst ones happened when my dad  
had been drinking -- which also happened more and more often. It got so I was  
desperate to find reasons not to come home, anything to avoid Mom's  
thinly veiled lack of interest and Dad's open resentment.

"I'd always been athletic, and trying out for the basketball team seemed  
like a good way to fill up my after school hours. I meant it to be a  
simple diversion, a means to an end. I never expected the thrill it gave  
me, or the sense that I finally belonged somewhere again. Suddenly,  
instead of being Fox Mulder, the kid whose sister disappeared under  
mysterious circumstances, I was Fox Mulder, the kid who could sink a  
three-pointer under pressure. I might be invisible at home, but on the  
court they cheered and called my name. My whole life revolved  
around those games.

"I'm not sure how Dad finally found out -- most likely a neighbor made  
an off-hand remark, assuming that he'd be proud of his son's  
accomplishments. All I know is that one Friday night when I ran  
onto the court at the beginning of the game, my father was sitting in  
the bleachers. A front row seat. I must have looked as shocked as I  
felt -- I'm sure I was gaping at him like he had two heads. He just  
nodded and smiled. And I swear to God, Scully, it was the first time  
he'd even acknowledged me, let alone *smiled*, since we'd lost Sam.

"Once I pulled myself together, I played the game of my life  
I scored twenty-seven points, and we beat the other team 95  
to 83. Dad was waiting for me when I came out of the locker room after  
the game, with that smile still plastered on his face -- showing teeth,  
no less! He took me out for ice cream, and he gave me that basketball.  
And for just a little while, I could pretend that Samantha wasn't gone  
and things were the way they used to be." 

Scully swallowed against the constriction in her throat. "Things  
improved at home?" 

Mulder chuckled, the sound like rocks grating together. "Yeah, they got  
a divorce." He blew out a long puff of air. "Dad and I didn't become  
best buddies, if that's what you mean. And there were still times when  
he looked at me with a disappointment so tangible that I think I could have  
held it in my hands. But sometimes when I spent the weekends with him, I  
could coax him into shooting baskets. And if he was in town, he never  
missed my games." 

Mulder fell silent. After several minutes, Scully tilted her head so  
that she could see his face. His eyes looked somewhere far beyond her  
living room, his lip caught between his teeth. Feeling her gaze, he  
shook off his contemplation and returned to her, the corners of his  
mouth curving in a slight smile. 

"It's not just a ball, or a game. She pressed a swift kiss to  
his stubbled cheek. "Thank you for showing me." 

Scully collected his mug and her own and reluctantly stood, stretching  
like a cat to soothe the tight muscles in her lower back. Mulder yawned  
hugely, his eyes regaining the glassy, unfocused look that warned sleep  
was immanent. 

"Hey, Scully. How 'bout I give you a basketball lesson sometime? We  
could play a little one on one." 

Scully grinned openly at his pitiful attempt to leer, the affect spoiled  
by another jaw-breaking yawn. 

"Teach me to play one on one, Mulder? I thought that's what we've been  
doing for the last six years." 

This time when his eyes slipped shut she covered him with the afghan and  
turned out the light. 


End file.
